


Birthdays and bondage

by Kitacular



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: BDSM, Bad Spanish, Dom/sub, Flogging, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5970789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitacular/pseuds/Kitacular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Aramis' birthday and Porthos has bought him something special</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthdays and bondage

**Author's Note:**

> Pure indulgence! Looking for plot? Nada!
> 
> Apologies if any of the Spanish is slightly off! Especially to livia_bj! :D

“Oh, Porthos,” Aramis breathed, looking around the room.

“Like it?” asked Porthos nervously.

Aramis nodded fervently and held his hand to his chest.

While Aramis had been at dinner with Athos, Porthos had covered every surface in their home with candles, something he'd done once years before. The entire room was bathed in gently flickering candlelight.

“Oh, Porthos,” he whispered again. He drank in the sight, unable to tear his eyes away as Porthos' began slowly removing his weapons and accoutrements.

As he finally removed Aramis' coat, leaving him in just his shirt and breeches, Porthos stepped away to hang them up and removed his own shirt. Returning, he slipped his arms around Aramis' waist, pressing his bare chest against Aramis' still clothed back.

“Happy birthday, Sire,” he whispered, leaning his chin on Aramis' shoulder.

Aramis laughed, the light sound ringing through the room.

“It isn't my birthday for another week!” he said, turning in Porthos' embrace and cradling his face.

“I know... You're just so hard to surprise. This way you aren't expecting it,” Porthos murmured.

Aramis laughed again and kissed Porthos sweetly. They lingered over each other's lips for a long time. Each movement was tender, gentle, affectionate. Porthos rested his arms around Aramis' waist and made no movement to pull him closer.

After long, long minutes Aramis sighed blissfully and pulled back slightly. Porthos' eyes were glazed over and he knew he must look similar. He draped his arms loosely over Porthos' shoulders and leaned into him.

“Present?” Porthos murmured.

“Present? There's a present, too?” Aramis asked, instantly straightening up. Porthos grinned at the glee in Aramis' face.

“Mhmm. Your choice. What would you like as a gift?” Porthos asked softly, running his hands up and down Aramis' back.

“Make love to me, mi vida,” Aramis answered in a whisper.

A lazy smile spread across Porthos' face and he dipped his head to Aramis' neck and began to nuzzle along the line of his jaw.

“Is that all you want, mi sol? Hmm?” he murmured.

Porthos kissed down Aramis' throat, tipping his chin up. Feeling Aramis' hands tighten on his bare back, Porthos smiled to himself. He began to nibble a line along Aramis' jaw and pressed a firm kiss to the spot where it met his slender neck.

“What else is on offer?” Aramis asked breathlessly, his grin evident in his voice.

Porthos lifted his head and met Aramis' eyes squarely.

“Anything,” he answered.

“You really would give me anything,” Aramis said softly, confirming more than asking.

“Anything,” Porthos repeated sincerely.

Aramis smiled serenely and kissed Porthos again, his lips growing bolder, more insistent. His hands moved up to rest in Porthos' dark curls, tangling in them. Porthos groaned softly and Aramis took advantage, his tongue slipping past Porthos' lips.

Porthos smiled against Aramis, his hands gripping the loose shirt lightly, enjoying the closeness of his lover's body. He obligingly parted his lips, granting Aramis access and welcoming his tongue with his own.

Aramis suddenly broke the kiss and they shared a smile. Aramis pressed his forehead against Porthos'.

“Mi vida,” he breathed.

Porthos kissed him lightly in reply. He dipped his head again and returned to the sensitive spot on Aramis' neck. He nuzzled against him gently, pressing feathery kisses along the line of his neck. Aramis' hands in his hair grew more insistent and pressed Porthos' face more firmly into his neck.

Obligingly, Porthos began to nibble at the sensitive spot and was rewarded with a soft moan. He sucked sharply and grinned as he felt Aramis' knees buckle slightly. Aramis chuckled breathlessly at the same time.

“You are a menace, my beautiful boy,” Aramis laughed.

He tugged Porthos' curls gently, attempting to lift his lover's head from his neck. Porthos grumbled quietly and let his teeth dig in slightly, feeling the slimmer man's knees buckle again. Aramis' laugh rang through the room once more.

“Menace,” he repeated, still laughing. “Enough, my boy.”

Porthos lifted his head and looked closely at his lover. Under his relaxed expression there was the first beginnings of mischief.

“Ahh... So thaaat is what you want for your birthday?”

Aramis nodded, his slightly cruel smile spreading across his face.

“Then I definitely have a gift for you,” Porthos said, his voice low.

Aramis raised an eyebrow.

“For you, **Sire** ,” Porthos corrected himself. Aramis smiled and kissed Porthos lightly.

“Then by all means, my love,” Aramis said, lightly stepping out of Porthos' embrace.

“Would you close your eyes, Sire?” Porthos asked.

Aramis was amused to see nerves on Porthos' face and nodded, closing his eyes peacefully. He felt Porthos lead him by the hand and could tell they were approaching the smaller bedroom. He felt Porthos pull his hand down to something on the bed.

“Open them, Sire,” Porthos whispered huskily.

Aramis turned his head to Porthos first and kissed him before opening his eyes. He smiled at the look of nerves on Porthos' face and was slightly startled by the mild fear. Unable to resist any longer, he looked down at the bed.

“Mi vida!” he cried. “You shouldn't have!”

“Sire?” Porthos asked thickly. “You don't like them?”

Aramis slid to his knees by the side of the bed and felt Porthos follow nervously.

“I love them!” he said fervently. He ran his fingers across the chains and felt Porthos tremble at his side.

 

* * *

 

“Dios!” Aramis cried as Porthos' third finger slipped into him, stretching him wide.

Their clothes lay in a forgotten heap on the bed, Aramis' shirt was in tatters. Seeing the chains had been his undoing and Aramis had insisted that they make love there on the floor. Seeing Porthos so willing to place himself in a situation he genuinely couldn't escape from had made him desperate to feel his lover.

“Master,” groaned Porthos.

He began to thrust his three fingers in out of Aramis and watched hungrily as the slender body writhed on the floor. Porthos leaned over Aramis, between his spread legs, braced his weight on one hand beside the dark waves and kissed him hard.

Aramis' hands flew up to Porthos' hair and he quickly took control of Porthos' kiss. He moaned against his lover's mouth, feeling his thick fingers stretching him. As Porthos began to twist his fingers, Aramis moaned again and his kiss became all tongue and teeth, flicking his tongue and nipping his teeth across Porthos' mouth.

“Mi vida! Me estoy desesperada!” Aramis moaned, laughing.

“You know I don't know any Spanish, Sire,” Porthos laughed, kissing him again, his hand continuing its relentless motion inside him.

“Mentiroso!” Aramis cried.

“Nope... Don't know that one either!” Porthos said, brightly.

“Means liar!” Aramis translated in a desperate shout. He lifted his legs up round Porthos hips and pulled him closer. Porthos laughed and kissed him again.

“Perhaps I am, Sire,” he murmured against Aramis' lips. He groaned softly and slowly withdrew his fingers, listening to Aramis begin to pant.

“Want you now, my boy. Now,” Aramis moaned, digging his heels in and tugging on Porthos' curls.

“Sí, amo,” Porthos growled and pressed the head of his thick cock against Aramis' entrance.

Aramis' breathy laugh rang through the small room.

“You **do** speak Spanish, my boy!” he cried. His hands began to run restlessly across Porthos' back and he moaned loudly, a high keening noise, as Porthos pushed into him and stopped.

“Only a few particularly important phrases, Sire,” Porthos said, holding himself still. “Since you babble in Spanish when I do certain **things** ,” he continued, his voice growing strained as he pressed another couple of inches into him. “I thought it would help if I could at least reply when you do.”

Aramis laughed again and writhed beneath Porthos. He could feel his muscles stretched around Porthos. No matter how many times they did this, it always took Aramis' breath away just how thick Porthos was.

“¿Cómo soy tan afortunado?” Aramis asked, laughing. His hands scrabbled at Porthos' back as he concentrated on trying to let his muscles relax around him.

“Show off,” Porthos growled, pushing himself into Aramis another couple of inches and holding himself still.

“Dios!” Aramis cried, his voice rising as his laughter became less and less regular.

He writhed beneath Porthos' body and wound his hands into the dark curls. He pulled him sharply down and pressed their lips together. His kiss was crushing, demanding and desperate and he tightened his muscles around Porthos insistently. He felt Porthos' answering growl vibrate through the darker man's chest and then up and down his own body.

“Dear God, Porthos. If you don't fuck me soon I am going to lose my mind and you will be stuck with me speaking nothing but Spanish for the rest of your life!” Aramis cried, digging his nails into Porthos' back.

Porthos finally pressed the rest of his cock into Aramis' body and his loud groan was answered by a high pitched moan from Aramis who had arched his back and was panting heavily.

Porthos slowly began to move himself in and out of his lover who was now completely without words of any language. As Porthos began to rhythmically thrust into him, Aramis collapsed back on the floor and sprawled out beneath Porthos.

The darker man let his eyes roam across the slender body beneath him and found his breath taken away, as it so often was, by the look of sheer pleasure on Aramis' face. He lost himself in sensation so easily and it always made Porthos feel full of joy to know he'd put that look there. He shifted his weight on his arms and began to move in earnest.

Aramis gasped helplessly at the sudden determination and arched his back again. His hands ran up and down Porthos' back, luxuriating in the sensation. There wasn't a joy in the world that compared to being connected to Porthos like this, no matter which way round they were.

Porthos hauled himself up onto his knees, pulling Aramis with him. The long pale legs wrapped themselves around his waist and his arms did the same around his neck.

“Oh Porthos,” Aramis breathed as his weight settled him impossibly deeply onto his lover. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Master. So much. I love you, Aramis,” Porthos chanted, as their foreheads were pressed together again.

Porthos shuffled carefully backwards onto his bottom, not letting Aramis move off him in the slightest. He rested his back against the bed and moved his hands down to cup Aramis' buttocks.

Together they found a rhythm that worked. Porthos lifted him up and Aramis sank back down onto him. Aramis' head had fallen back and his mouth had dropped open. Porthos again found himself admiring the euphoria on his face. He began to raise his hips as Aramis sank down to make the movement harder, deeper, making the noises from Aramis higher and more urgent.

Porthos' hand found Aramis' cock between them and wrapped his fingers around his length. He began to move his hand up and down Aramis and smiled as the breathy gasps turned into a sudden laugh, quickly transforming into a long moan.

Aramis wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do. When he arched his back into Porthos' hand it pressed him further onto Porthos' thick cock. He could feel utter joy radiating from his fingers to his toes and wrapped his hands into Porthos' curls, pulling his face up to him.

Porthos groaned happily, feeling Aramis' lips urgently pressing themselves against his. He dug the fingers of his free hand into Aramis' buttock and began to pull him down as he raised his hips into him. The hand on Aramis' long cock began to move in earnest, Porthos' fingers twisting just so, smoothing over the head of Aramis' member just the way he liked.

The noise that came out of Aramis' throat as he found his release was a thing of absolute beauty. Porthos growled deeply, feeling Aramis' muscles constrict around him. His hand gradually massaged along Aramis' length, squeezing everything he could from him.

“Oh Porrrthos,” Aramis moaned, his whole body shuddering.

Porthos groaned loudly, hearing the emotion with which Aramis said his name. Aramis fell forwards against Porthos' chest and laughed, his whole body vibrating.

“You might have the most awful accent, mi vida, but you're adorable when you speak Spanish,” he giggled, nuzzling into Porthos' neck.

Porthos laughed, the sound filling the room and vibrating through Aramis' limp body.

“Mi sol,” Porthos murmured, pressing his face into the dark waves.

“Stick to that,” he replied, still giggling.

Aramis groaned, lifting himself up off Porthos' still hard cock. He immediately resumed chuckling and fell to the side, where Porthos caught him and cradled him, cuddling him close to his chest.

After long long minutes, Porthos' bottom began to hurt, sitting on the hard floor. He straightened slightly and smiled at the blissful expression on Aramis' face.

“Happy birthday, Sire,” he whispered.

Aramis blinked his eyes a few times and focussed on Porthos.

“Oh Porthos! I haven't even tried my new present!”

 

* * *

 

Aramis circled the table thoughtfully, looking down at the exquisite body laid out in front of him. He'd cleared all the candles Porthos had laid out but had spent the last few minutes carefully placing a few back on the table around his body. As he circled, he found himself captivated by the way the candlelight flickered across Porthos' tanned skin.

He was waiting for Porthos to calm back down. Putting the shackles on had made him tense up and it had taken a lot of soothing to keep him calm. Aramis wasn't too surprised. They spent a lot of time seeing these shackles in use in prisons but Aramis was well aware they had an entirely different meaning for the child of a slave.

He'd wrapped layers of cloth around Porthos' wrists and ankles to protect his skin and kissed him between every movement. Since he'd laid down on the table, Porthos had been calming steadily. It wasn't a new position for him to be spread out on his stomach across their table. The chains holding his four limbs to the table legs were new, though, and Aramis could hear them clinking slightly as Porthos tested the give in them.

Porthos was tracking Aramis' movements by hearing alone. He'd been offered the blindfold but turned it down, even though he was choosing to keep his eyes closed. He took too much comfort from Aramis' eyes and with the fear and uncertainty rolling through him, he'd need some.

As this thought crossed Porthos' mind, Aramis crouched down and kissed his forehead. Aramis watched Porthos' eyes open slowly and smiled as he watched his lover's face relax instantly seeing his own.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, Porthos?” he asked softly.

Porthos blushed slightly and Aramis trailed his finger across the scar covering his cheek.

“You're always beautiful, my boy. Even when you're sweating and covered in mud from a hard day. Today, though...”

Porthos dropped his eyes, the intensity of Aramis' gaze making him feel more naked than his spread-eagle form did. He felt Aramis lift his chin and obediently met his eyes again.

“Today, though,” Aramis continued, his voice soft. “You are a work of art. I love you more today than I ever have and yet I know I will love you more tomorrow,” he murmured.

“I love you, Master,” whispered Porthos, unable to form anything more eloquent.

“I know,” Aramis replied, smiling warmly.

He cradled Porthos' face and kissed him sweetly. He sighed against his lover's mouth and let himself sink into the kiss. It gradually became more and more possessive. Porthos always grew more passive when he was restrained and this just spurred Aramis on. His tongue probed into Porthos' mouth aggressively, intrusively.

Porthos panted as Aramis suddenly broke away. He felt his stomach lurch as the twinkle in Aramis' eye had turned slightly cruel. He closed his eyes again as Aramis stood up and forced himself to resume taking deep breaths.

Porthos gasped in surprise as something burned a line on the small of his back. It cooled quickly and he fidgeted slightly, feeling a tightness growing on his skin. Another line, hotter this time, trailed up his spine and he jerked in surprise, whimpering at the loud noise the chains made.

Porthos felt Aramis moving back to his crouched position by his face and he searched wildly until Aramis' eyes came back into view. He was startled to see him holding a candle in his hand and suddenly it made sense.

“I'm improving my beautiful work of art,” Aramis murmured. “OK, my love? Noise of the chains startled you?”

Porthos ducked his head bashfully and nodded. Aramis smiled kindly and stroked the dark curls before standing up and walking out of view. Porthos sucked in a deep breath as another line of heat landed on his spine again and quickly faded.

Yet another dribble of molten wax landed on his skin, spreading out from the line along his spine and touching on the sensitive skin of his waist. He groaned softly as he began to relax, recognising the pain faded each time. He felt a matching line trail across the other side and shifted, the faint rattle of the chains not upsetting him this time.

Aramis smiled and switched candle as he ran out of melted wax, tilting it carefully to trail a new line of wax across Porthos' well formed buttock. He quickly trailed a matching line across the other. Porthos hissed at both lines but didn't move. Aramis tilted his head and surveyed the beautiful skin before him.

He lowered his hand slightly, knowing it would start to hurt a little more. Gradually he painted his lover's back, using the small noises and jerks of his body to guide him when it was too low and too hot.

Porthos had never felt pain this relaxing. He was positively flying. For as much as the rapidly cooling wax was making his skin feel like it was burning, it felt like his very soul was on fire under Aramis' hands. He groaned as Aramis used the steady hand of a battlefield surgeon to draw careful lines along the sensitive skin where his thighs met the curve of his already covered buttocks.

Aramis smiled peacefully, watching Porthos fidget. He swapped to the fourth and final candle and admired his handiwork. His tanned skin was almost entirely covered across his back. There were several lines criss crossing across his buttocks and then two jagged lines underneath that were still hardening.

Porthos hissed in surprised pain when he felt the hot trail on the back of his outstretched arm. He felt a matching trail on the other arm and couldn't help the small smile that came to his lips. Aramis was always so symmetrical. He groaned loudly as the heat came from yet another unexpected source on the back of both of his thighs.

Aramis grinned as the hisses and groans became more and more frequent and a thin sheen of sweat was visible on Porthos' forehead. He carefully extinguished all the candles, the ones on the opposite wall providing enough light to see by. He moved to crouch by Porthos' head and waited for him to open his eyes.

As Aramis came swimming into focus, Porthos leaned forward to kiss him and smiled against Aramis' lips as they gently met his own.

“You're so beautiful, mi vida,” Aramis said quietly. “You suffer so gracefully for me. How do you feel?”

Porthos chuckled breathlessly and dropped his head. Aramis smiled affectionately and moved forwards, tugging Porthos' head onto his shoulder and letting him nuzzle into his neck for a minute.

“Porthos? How are you feeling, boy?” Aramis asked again, gently tipping his chin up.

“Foggy, Sire. Tingly and very sensitive but not in pain,” he answered in a whisper. Aramis nodded and fed him some water from the skin nearby.

“How are your wrists and ankles feeling, my darling?”

“All fine, Sire. I can feel the weight of them but the cloth seems thick enough that they aren't digging in,” he answered, slightly stronger.

“What did you think of my artwork?” Aramis asked mischievously.

“It makes me wonder what kind of devious artists you have been spending your time with. It makes me want to thank whoever they are,” he answered grinning.

Aramis laughed lightly.

“I'm glad you liked it. You sound so pretty when you're in pain,” Aramis replied, his voice dropping.

 

* * *

 

 

Porthos recognised the hungry look in Aramis' eye and swallowed nervously. He strained his head to watch Aramis move lithely across the room to their bureau. He heard the movement of items in the drawer and his eyes widened as Aramis returned with both of their floggers in his hand.

Aramis waited a moment while Porthos calmed himself down. He felt a surge of pride at how quickly his breathing slowed and he recognised the slight arch in Porthos' back to mean he was ready. He smirked to himself and raised his arm.

Porthos grunted softly at the first strike, surprised how hard Aramis was hitting right from the start. Normally he started with the thinner lashes but he seemed to have started with the thicker, wider falls. On the second blow he felt the wax lines crack beneath the lash and understood. He forced himself to continue the steady breathing Aramis had trained him to use and he followed Aramis' path in his mind.

As he watched Porthos begin to welcome the strikes, Aramis started to strike him high up on his shoulders, carefully angling well away from Porthos' head. He moved methodically across Porthos' shoulders, moving down slightly and returning to the other side, sweeping back and forth as he slowly travelled down his lover's broad back, cracking the wax coverings as he went.

By the time Aramis had reached his waist, Porthos was grunting regularly, his skin unusually sensitive and painful. He was beginning to struggle to stick to his breathing pattern and hoped Aramis would pause when he reached the base of his spine. He groaned helplessly as his wish wasn't to be and Aramis' remarkably hard strikes continued across Porthos' buttocks.

Aramis licked his lips, hearing Porthos' control beginning to slip. He stayed in place on Porthos' bottom, laying hard, solid strokes across the centre of each, watching the wax crack and begin to flake off under the assault.

Porthos began to pull slightly on the chains holding his ankles down as he felt Aramis focussing in on his buttocks. He felt the strikes landing harder, heavier and faster and knew Aramis was doing it just to hurt him now. He growled at the knowledge and clenched his fists, stilling his lower body.

Aramis felt a surge of adrenaline at Porthos' acceptance and shifted his weight to be able to roll his wrist in alternate directions. This was the same motion he used when rolling his sword in his hand and made the whip feel utterly weightless but it still packed a punch when it landed on Porthos' skin. He sped his strikes up, letting them land with less precision. Destroying the wax wasn't his goal any more.

Porthos began to growl as the heat on his skin became more and more intense. His entire back was still tingling and had an added layer of heat from Aramis' beating but the pain in his buttocks were becoming increasingly unbearable. Every strike was beginning to feel like fire, his skin feeling more and more abraded with each heavy lash. A sudden vicious strike landed across the backs of his thighs and he bellowed in pain, his head and shoulders attempting to rise from the table out of instinct.

Aramis stopped, his eyes shining, his breath shallow. He watched Porthos gasping for breath, his buttocks almost entirely free of wax already and rapidly turning a dark red colour. He took a mouthful of water and waited.

Porthos shuddered when he realised Aramis had paused and sagged against the table, sucking in deep breaths. As soon as he did so, he felt Aramis draw closer and he opened his eyes to see his smiling face in front of his own. He gratefully drank down some of the offered water and smiled weakly. He felt his stomach give another sudden lurch of fear when Aramis' answering smile was full of menace.

Aramis swapped the floggers for the much thinner one. It was still quite painful, especially on already sensitive skin, but it was much easier to control and he was determined to make the wax removal just as artistic as the application had been.

Porthos jumped in surprise as Aramis trailed what felt like the lighter whip up his back. Normally he started with this one and moved to the harder one but today he was doing the opposite. He grunted in pain as the lash came down suddenly on the back of his shoulder, striking from the centre out. It landed again and, despite the pain, Porthos laughed suddenly, feeling the wax flake off under the strange angle.

Aramis grinned, hearing Porthos' sudden bark of laughter and struck again, sweeping the cracked flakes of wax off. He continued to strike again and again in the same place until only tiny slivers were left. He shifted his stance and repeated the pattern on the other side. Once both shoulder blades were clear, he paused and surveyed the newly cleaned skin. It was a bright shade of red from the flogging but it didn't appear that any wax had left marks. Aramis gave himself a mental pat on the back that he'd judged the height correctly.

Porthos felt the lashes begin again, lower down and understood Aramis was following the same methodical path. It was a peculiar sensation. The strike of the lash hurt in itself but then there was the strange feeling of the wax peeling off under the impact, leaving seemingly extra sensitive skin in its wake, which was then struck again and hurt all the more for it. He grew more and more restless under each strike, finding it harder and harder to stay calm when Aramis' lashes were landing in the same place over and over. He'd always found that more difficult to process than spread out strikes.

As Aramis moved across to the other side of his back, he had a growing suspicion that even if Aramis cleared every piece of wax with the first strike he was keeping going until Porthos was at the edge of his tolerance, only moving on when he started to struggle against the chains, unable to hold still.

Porthos was growling constantly, his hands clenching and unclenching by the time Aramis had finally cleared his waist of wax. Aramis paused again and surveyed the skin, listening to the distressed noise. There were still tiny flakes of pale wax stuck to him but the normally tanned skin was an angry shade of red from the tops of his shoulder blades all the way down to the hips Aramis loved so much. His buttocks were still darker than the rest and so Aramis moved down to the backs of Porthos' thighs.

He resumed his punishing rolling motions across the sensitive skin. Porthos' legs had only one thin trail of wax each so the skin was relatively cold and each of these strikes was a stinging, many lashed blow that tested Porthos' self control. He grinned as Porthos' entire body was beginning to vibrate with the intensity of his growling and he stopped.

Aramis wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and crouched by Porthos' head again. It took several minutes for Porthos to calm down enough to raise his head so Aramis took the time to move away and check on Porthos' wrists and ankles. All seemed well but Aramis knew they'd be growing heavy by now.

Returning to Porthos' head, Aramis fed him some more water from the skin. When Porthos had drunk his fill, Aramis stood back up, stepping out of reach of Porthos who was leaning forward to nuzzle against him.

He stepped back to behind Porthos and picked up the heavier flogger again. He swung it past Porthos' hip without touching him in a warning and heard an unmistakeable whimper from the larger man. Aramis allowed himself an affectionate smile at the prone form of his lover before taking a deep breath and bringing the thick lashes down across the already severely reddened backside.

Porthos howled as the pain flared to life across his buttocks. While Aramis had been removing the wax from elsewhere, it had dulled to a throb but it was now vibrant and alive. He felt Aramis' fingertips brush across the skin. Even the lightest touch felt like sandpaper and he couldn't stop himself from whimpering.

Again the whip came down and he howled. He pulled hard on the chains on his wrists, attempting to rise from the table and sagged back down heavily as they didn't give. Aramis struck again and Porthos kicked his legs out wildly, unable to lift them too far, restricted again by the unyielding metal.

Aramis struck again and watched as Porthos pulled hard on all four at once. He tilted his head as he could see Porthos' shoulders shaking with the strain of trying to pull free. Once again Porthos collapsed back against the table and Aramis immediately brought the whip down across the darkening skin.

Porthos bellowed into the table but made no real effort to rise. He simply writhed on the table, the chains rattling. Aramis felt the hairs stand up on his arms and licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. He struck Porthos' buttocks again and had to stifle a moan as Porthos thrashed on the table.

Porthos' mind was in over-drive. His skin was stinging all over but he was barely aware of it. All he could think about was the unbearable pain across his buttocks. Every strike of the lash felt like being sliced open, burnt and punched all at the same time. He'd been taken past the level he could calmly endure and was desperate to get away but there was just no give whatsoever in the metal linking him to the table.

He howled in agony as the pain exploded across his skin again, thrashing wildly on the table. Before he'd even stopped moving, Aramis struck again and again, three times in quick succession. Something inside Porthos snapped and his voice broke, a strangled cry being pulled from his throat.

Aramis clutched his chest for a moment and listened to the tortured sound before licking his lips again and resuming his strikes, not resting between them. He brought the whip down again and again, tearing more agonised noises from Porthos, who was flailing uselessly on the table.

Finally Aramis got the noise he wanted as Porthos' entire body was racked by a sudden sob. He paused only for a few seconds, hearing Porthos trying to control himself and struck him again. Porthos' self control snapped and he began to cry in earnest, the choking sounds making Aramis' heart leap into his mouth as he continued to bring the whip down, much much lighter and much slower but continuing all the same.

This was new territory for them. Normally Aramis used severe pain to make Porthos cry in order to help him release tension, stopping when he cried. Today it was just Aramis choosing to indulge his desire for Porthos' pain. He trusted Porthos to tell him if something was really wrong and he had great faith in Porthos' ability to absorb it.

Porthos recognised the difference immediately. This wasn't about him today. This was for Aramis. Porthos felt suddenly diminutive and humbled. His crying changed from something of pure agony to just an unidentifiable jumble of emotion. He sagged against the table, sobbing quietly, each strike from Aramis feeling like it pulled another layer of skin off his very soul, laying him open.

After several more strikes, Aramis finally stopped, both of his arms throbbing. There was no change in Porthos, he still lay passive, weeping quietly. Aramis sat down cross legged on the floor by Porthos and guided his head onto his shoulder. Porthos nestled his face into Aramis' neck and continued to cry for several long minutes. Aramis leaned his head sideways to return the nuzzle and stroked his hair in silence, content to let him cry himself out.

After long, long minutes sat together, Aramis gently tipped Porthos' head up to look at him. He was still sniffling slightly and his eyes were red and bloodshot. He opened his mouth to speak but Aramis shook his head and insisted he take a drink first. He gulped down the water, surprised how thirsty he was. Aramis quickly gave him some from the other skin when he finished the first.

Satisfied he'd had all he needed, Aramis cradled Porthos' face gently and kissed him softly. He lingered over the kiss, moving his lips just slightly, feeling Porthos' own movements distinctly dazed. He pulled back and searched his lover's face. He was certainly dazed and drowsy but was definitely himself again, the lazy smile on his face was pure Porthos.

“With me, boy?” asked Aramis softly.

“Yes, Master,” he replied dreamily.

“You wanted to say something?”

Porthos screwed up his face in concentration and Aramis had to stifle a laugh at the sight.

“Don' remember,” Porthos said, shrugging slightly.

Aramis let himself laugh this time and stroked Porthos' thick curls. The rattle of the chains as Porthos shrugged made Aramis acutely aware of how heavy the manacles must be feeling now and how hard Porthos must have pulled on them.

“Think you can stand yet, mi vida?” Aramis asked.

Porthos took a moment to think and then smiled at Aramis, shaking his head.

“OK, my love. Don't move, then,” Aramis murmured.

He quickly crouched beneath the table, not bothering to undo the shackles on the wooden legs, only concerning himself with the ones attached to Porthos. He pressed his fingers against the areas the metal had rested and nodded to himself when Porthos hissed slightly at a spot against the bones of each ankle. He left the cloth covering them for the moment and moved to Porthos' wrists. He was pleased to note there seemed to be no painful spots on them as yet.

Porthos watched lazily as Aramis bustled around. It had taken a long time for Porthos to accept being looked after like this but he knew it was important to Aramis to check everything as he went. Besides, Aramis usually knew best. It's why Porthos rarely refused water when offered. Almost invariably, he felt worse when he declined it.

He couldn't help the soft groan that sounded when Aramis lowered his outstretched arms to his sides, his shoulders protesting. He heard Aramis' chuckle and then felt him picking off the long forgotten wax trails on his arms. Porthos chuckled weakly as well and lay calmly, gathering his strength.

Aramis moved across Porthos' reddened skin, picking stray flakes of wax off him, trying not to touch the angry red skin. The few flakes still clinging to Porthos' well beaten buttocks stayed there. Aramis could see the skin beginning to mottle into purple bruises and didn't want to agitate Porthos by touching him unnecessarily. He finished picking the bits he could from Porthos' thighs and moved back to his head.

“Ready for bed, my boy?” he asked quietly.

“With help, Master, yes,” Porthos admitted, groaning as he began to straighten for movement.

With Aramis' help, Porthos was soon stood, swaying gently, on his feet. Aramis guided him into the second bedroom where he relieved himself. Aramis slowly walked them to their own bedroom, feeling a slight pang of guilt at how stiff Porthos' shoulders and hips were. He eased Porthos down onto his stomach and helped him to shuffle sideways on the bed to leave room for Aramis.

“I'm going to close the house down for the night, mi vida. I will only be a few minutes. You are to call me if you need me back sooner,” Aramis said seriously.

Porthos nodded nervously. He always hated being away from Aramis after such intense emotion but he understood the necessity. He swallowed hard as Aramis slipped out the doorway. He strained to hear him moving around but in bare feet, Aramis moved like a cat. After what felt like an age, Porthos felt his face flush in shame.

“Master?” he called, hating how pitiful his voice sounded.

Aramis was at his side in seconds, smiling kindly at him.

“I'm sorry,” Porthos mumbled into the mattress.

Aramis stroked the dark curls gently.

“I told you to call me and you did. Nothing to apologise for, my beautiful boy. I promise you. I've done everything I needed to. I was just sweeping up the wax we'd left all over the floor but we can do that tomorrow. I'm just going to douse the candles and I will be all yours,” he explained.

Porthos nodded again and forced himself to count slowly to ten. Aramis returned at the count of five. He opened the shutter at the end of the bed, letting the moonlight stream into the room and doused the last candle in their room.

Feeling him slide into bed next to him, Porthos hated how urgently he pressed himself against Aramis' side. He didn't seem to mind, however. Aramis settled on his back and simply readjusted Porthos until one of his arms was draped across Aramis' stomach and his own was beneath Porthos' suddenly heavy head.

Aramis sighed, a deep contented noise and he leaned down to press a kiss into Porthos' hair. Porthos suddenly lifted his head.

“I remembered,” he said, sleepily.

“Hmm?”

“I was gonna say...”

“Oh?”

“Happy birthday Master.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts and requests always welcome at kitacularao3 at gmaildotcom :D


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